


a redundancy of moons

by SincerelyChaos



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Extended Metaphors, M/M, Relationship Problems, Silence, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyChaos/pseuds/SincerelyChaos
Summary: While Sherlock may not know much about the solar system, three moons is clearly a redundancy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Snorklepie offered me the word "nail clippings" when I asked for a tiny prompt.
> 
> pennypaperbrain helped rid this story of its redundant words (verbosity not being what I aimed for) and made it far more... cutting.

There are new moons made out of keratin, contrasting with the dark bathroom tiles and turning the floor behind the sink into a distorted vision of the night sky.

While Sherlock may not know much about the solar system, three moons is clearly a redundancy.

John could have told him more about the night sky. He did use to talk about those things sometimes, but Sherlock never really listened to the words, only paid attention to the voice in the darkness of a cab or the stale air of their – of Sherlock’s – bedroom.

(Would Sherlock listen now, if John still spoke that way?)

His flatmate was a considerate lover. The sight of fingernail clippings that had missed the sink used to fill Sherlock with a sensation of indulgence, liquid and expectant. John was so careful not to hurt him unintentionally.

Unfortunately, sharp nails are not needed to tear something delicate. Silence will do.

They still circle each other (like the Earth around the sun, Sherlock thinks, because he still cares if John finds him… ignorant), but in a distanced way that renders the question of keratin against intestinal epithelium an additional redundancy.

The slivers of moon have widened with the silence, until there's no longer any need for newly-cut nails. As long as they’re short enough to be hygienic when covered in latex in an exam room at the clinic, that’ll do. Sherlock will find no more tiny clippings in the early evenings; anticipate no more nights to be spent between sweaty, wrinkled sheets with limbs entangled.

It’s strange to miss a redundant anomaly, but abundance is never as plentiful as lack.

 


End file.
